


Visitor - Dream/Georgenotfound smut

by allies_alt



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Based on the recent dsmp stuff, Blow Jobs, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Role Reversal, Shibari, Smut, i wrote this at like 1am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allies_alt/pseuds/allies_alt
Summary: “Alright. I’ll help you. As long as you let me tie you up.”George comes to visit Dream in the dsmp prison and, uh, yeah...
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 8
Kudos: 231





	Visitor - Dream/Georgenotfound smut

Dream wakes from a restless sleep to nothing but the prison cell walls. He stares at the ceiling. It’s always the same now. Always. Sometimes he imagines waking up to a friend in the doorway, come to visit him. He had been convinced there was a chance it would happen at first, but as the days blend into weeks, he finds himself unable to find the motivation to so much as look in that direction when he wakes.

“Hey.”

Dream jumps to his feet, taken by surprise by the far from expected visitor, but his face softens into a smile as he recognises them.

“George!” He grins. A second passes, and he remembers the prison cell he resides in, everything that happened, and the disappointment in the eyes of the friends he had spoken to before now. “Guess you’ve come to yell at me, huh?”

George’s voice is soft, and every word feels carefully thought out.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about what happened. Obviously I care, but I’m here for you, Dream. Not what happened. You.”

Dream notices George absently toying with something in his hands. A bundle of rope.

“I mean, if you still want me.” George continues. “I can’t let you out, but...”

George coils one end of the rope around his hand, lightly tugging on it. Dream watches his hands, unsure whether to be confused or aroused. George’s hands are definitely smaller than his, he considers, but play with the rope deftly. His hands look soft, too.

“George...” Dream starts, but pauses soon after, unable to find the sentence, or question, he wanted. George smiles.

“Thought you might need cheering up a little.”

The bed quietly creaks as Dream sits down, not once moving his eyes away from George. He fumbles with the fabric at the crotch of his pants. By the time, after multiple failed attempts, he concludes to pull the thin blanket over his lap, George is already quietly giggling from across the room.

“Come on, Dream, I know you want me.”

“If you know that then why don’t you come and do something about it?” Dream’s voice quickly shifts from confident to helpless. “Why didn’t you come here sooner?”

“Alright. I’ll help you. As long as you let me tie you up.” He says, dropping to his knees in front of Dream, playfully smiling, although genuine questioning concern lies behind it. 

Dream’s stomach flips, nervous but excited. George was never normally like this. Dream recalls their past together: George was always the little spoon, the one pinned down by his wrists, the one told what to do. Dream loved the control he usually had over him. Something about the way he looked beneath him, the red marks Dream’s hands leave on his wrists, the way his cheeks would flush that same shade as Dream’s hand would find its place against his neck was so undeniably beautiful that no other dynamic between them had so much as crossed his mind. But George standing over him, rope in his hands, a smirk on his face that could only be read as ‘prepared to make Dream his’ was something else entirely.

Taking one of George’s hands in his, Dream mutters his agreement.

Suddenly George’s lips are against his own, almost knocking him down. He feels hands under his shirt, tugging the hem upwards, and carefully moves his face away to raise his arms and help. He feels soft kisses start at his jaw and flutter down his neck, all the way to his collar bones. Tilting his head back, he breathes heavily. He hadn’t been this close to another person in weeks, let alone George kissing him. It was almost euphoric, feeling warm breath against his skin, soft hair under his hands. It sinks in that George clearly had plans to make Dream feel much better than he did in this moment. He wonders how the hell he’s going to be able to handle it.

He notices himself subconsciously raising his hips to help as George tugs down the waistband of his pants and underwear. It doesn’t bother him at all that he finds himself sitting naked, literally imprisoned, in front of George, unable to think of anything other than how badly he needed this. Not even just in the weeks he’s spent alone, but in general, too. To be taken care of, to let down his guard and let someone give him what he’s needing. It’s something he could only ever trust George with. He lovingly watches as he untangles the rope.

“Can you, uh, turn around?” George asks quietly.

Dream does as he’s asked, standing up. He can already tell what George is trying to insinuate, and sticks out his hands behind him. George takes them and starts to bind them together with the rope.

The pressure of the rope against his wrists felt considerably nicer than Dream was expecting. He quickly realises that the rope itself was actually rather uncomfortable, and it was instead the feeling of George restraining him that gave him butterflies. He feels his face turn red, and becomes grateful for the fact George had had him turn away to face the wall. He couldn’t even try to cover his face now, anyway. The rope binding was secure. Definitely more than just a simple handcuff knot, he feels the pressure of the rope against his skin a fair way up his forearms. George must know what he’s doing. Must have done his research. Dream smiles at the thought.

“Is this too tight?” George asks. Dream shakes his head in response, and feels George’s hands carefully raise his slightly to tie the rope around his chest. “This?”

“It’s good.” 

Dream intently watches George’s face as he works at the ropes. Eventually George gives in and looks up to meet Dream’s stare.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dream laughs. George tries to hold back giggles, but struggles as Dream goes to reach out to hold him only to be held back by his restraints with a sigh. George rests his face against his shoulder, laughing. He wasn’t just laughing at Dream’s staring, or his forgetful attempt to move his tightly bound arms. He was laughing because he was so happy to be with Dream again, playfully giggling at stupid exchanges and feeling his skin against his. And Dream can tell. He nuzzles his face into George’s hair, unable to provide much else affection with his limited range of movement. George looks up to press a gentle kiss to his lips before getting back to tying the last few knots.

Dream admires the rope work, so perfect and tidy but totally secure, and fights back a grin. He had DEFINITELY done his research. George looks him up and down, a combination of proudness and admiration on his face.

“You look pretty like this, Dream.”

“P-pretty?” Dream stumbles over his words, taken aback.

“Yeah.” George provides no further explanation, amused by how much such a simple statement had flustered Dream, the one who usually could take so much control with no issue. “Do you want to, uhm, sit down? Or...”

“Sure.”

George runs his hands over Dream’s thighs with a touch so gentle it makes Dream shiver. He spreads his legs open as George caresses the inside of his thighs. It’s nice, so nice, but he needs more. He moans softly as he watches George wrap his hand around the shaft of his cock. 

Only one thought crosses his mind other than his desperate need for more: he was definitely right about George’s hands being smaller than his, but hadn’t realised quite how endearing it could be. He smiles.

“Fuck, George...” he groans as George moves his hand. Once again Dream tries to reach out to run his fingers through George’s hair, but struggles against the rope holding him still. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

His frustration is quickly replaced with pleasure as George presses his lips against the tip of Dream’s cock in a kiss. Dream gasps as he softly licks and swirls his tongue around. It feels amazing. He watches George’s face as he takes it into his mouth, slowly moving further down, taking more and more. He looks so good. The sight of his soft pink lips around Dream’s cock turns him on more than he thought was physically possible. He’s conflicted - he wants to squeeze his eyes shut, overwhelmed, but can’t get enough of watching George. 

He begins to like the way his arms are tied behind him, as much as he wants to be able to play with George’s hair, or maybe hold his hand. The frustration was driving him crazy, and only contributing to his ever growing arousal. He finds himself fleetingly thankful for the circumstances that brought him here, the way George wouldn’t let him be free, the way his imprisonment had left him so touch starved that every touch from George, sexual or not, felt incredible. He doesn’t want it to stop, and doesn’t let himself think about what it will be like when George goes again. He doesn’t know if he can bear it after this.

“I think... I think I’m going to...” he feels himself come close, feeling as though he had never needed anything more. “Fuck!”

He trembles, struggling against his restraints, and falling onto his back as the pleasure washes over him. He barely registers George sitting down beside him, watching him lovingly.

He fumbles his arms, unable to stop himself smiling as George laughs lightly at his pathetic attempts.

“Are you going to untie me, or-“ 

“No.” George smirks at the prospect of leaving Dream tied up, but after a moment of watching the begging look in his eyes, gives in with a warm smile. “Okay. Come here then, I’ll untie you, Dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Why didn’t you come here sooner” Dream bro he was probably sleeping.  
> Bitches be like I’m fine and then suddenly they’re writing dreamnotfound it’s me I’m bitches.


End file.
